Packing Our Life Away
by thisisironic
Summary: How fast can you pack your life away? PeterClaire oneshot.


**Title**: Packing Our Life Away

**Author**: Emilie

**Fandom**: _Heroes_

**Pairing**: Peter/Claire

**Rating**: G

**Summary**: How fast can you pack your life away?

**Disclaimer**: I do no own these characters. No profit is made, no offense intended.

**Author's Note**: Future!Fic. I can't get enough of these two and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. It's not really a big fic, and it really don't serve any point, I just _really_ wanted to write it. I hope you like it!

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It was a warm Wednesday morning. The early sunrise brought light across the flat expanse of the desert, the heat enveloping a single shack--the only one for miles--while sunlight poured into its only room. The entirety of the shanty was made up of rust, dirt and humid air and the sun was the only source of light for its occupant. The only thing close to resembling modern technology was the small stove at one side of the room, near the doorway.

To any passerby--not that there had been in days and even then it was just a semi making its way even further into the desert--it was just another pathetic, lonely little shack that no one bothered to care about for much longer after they spotted it in the distance.

But to Claire it was a haven.

It wasn't much, sure, but it was safe. A run-of-the-mill shack out in the Arizona desert didn't attract too much attention, which was exactly what they needed.

_They_. The past two years had been spent with, and only with, Peter. Being on the run, constantly changing environment's and identities and desperately searching for answers, it all would've been impossible to find a reason to keep going. But she had Peter, and he had her. They were each other's motivation to get up in the morning. To keep going.

It was only her just then, though, sitting beside the window and letting the almost non-existent breeze try to cool her off. She was waiting for the beat up truck they managed to haggle out of a dealership for just over a thousand to show up at the far end of the deserted road.

And when it did, a smell speck in the distance that slowly grew bigger and bigger as it neared, she stayed by the window. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, fingers picking at the rip in her jeans as she gnawed at her bottom lip.

The truck slowed just a few feet from the shack, out of view from the only window it had. She could hear the door open and close and his footsteps, all the way up to the door. He walked in quietly, considerately. He probably thought she was still asleep, as she had been when he'd left. He kept the plastic bag in his hand close so that it didn't make too much noise. But when the door closed and he looked up, the first thing he saw was her. A smile reached his lips. It was as bright as he could manage but already Claire knew something was up.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said back to him. They spoke in hushed tones most of the time. Even their arguments were spoken in low voices, as if someone was listening. For all they knew, someone was. She lifted a finger off of her knee and pointed in the direction of the bag. "What'd ya get?"

"Um, actually," he held it behind his back. "Could you close your eyes for a minute?"

She complied, even bringing her hands to her face to cover her eyes, waiting as patiently as she could. She could smell what he had from her side of the room and smiled.

He knelt down in front of her, knees touching hers and something light being placed atop their joined legs. "Okay."

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was him biting his lip, nervous. And then she saw the cupcake resting on her knee. A single candle was stuck in the middle, the small orange glow blending in with the warm colors of the shack and sunlight.

"Happy birthday, Claire." She laughed, but in a good way, and Peter's face lit up. He watched her as she closed her eyes and blew it out, making a wish. "I missed that."

She'd just taken a bite out of it when he spoke, and she tilted her head at him and said through a mouthful of cupcake. "What, me laughin'?"

"Yeah," he answered back without a thought, hand reaching out to stroke the top of hers. After a moment he looked down at the cupcake and smiled a little to himself. "It's not much."

"It's amazin'!" Her smile was unrelenting as she turned her hand so that their palms touched. The shared warmth brought a sense of comfort between them, but it didn't last long.

"Claire..." His smile started to fade and, on instinct, she reached up to touch his face. The pads of her fingers grazed the softness of his cheek, hoping to keep him smiling for just a moment longer. He had a beautiful face, and not even in the superficial sense of the word. The creases at the corner of his eyes, the way his bottom lip turned when he spoke, and the scar that covered the left side of his face. Beautiful.

"When do we leave?" He didn't need to say it, to tell her that someone approached him at the market and said they recognized him. She knew; his eyes gave it all away. And not only that, either. It was impossible to spend two years with someone like him, doing nothing but running and looking for answers, without learning to know when something was bothering him.

"Soon." He looked down at the cupcake in her hands, half-eaten, and sighed. Before he said anything more, he leaned in and kissed her. Soft and gentle but saying everything he wished he could right then. Touching his forehead to hers, he went on. "We can leave tomorrow. Not today...not on your birth--"

"It's fine," she assured him, knowing he needed it. Sometimes he worried, a dull disquiet in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was afraid. Afraid that sooner or later she wouldn't go with him, or that he would wake up and find her gone. All she could do was kiss him and bring her hand to his smile or frown to see how it changed the contours of his face. She did it at night when they tried to sleep, the calming motion of her fingers tracing every line and dip--as if trying to memorize it all just so she could see him even with her eyes closed--being what eventually lulled them to sleep.

His body relaxed and he kissed her again. "I'll get everything together."

Before he could pull away, she grabbed his collar and kissed him back. He was always gentle with her, not caring if she was literally unbreakable, and so were his kisses. But she kissed him hard, with a bit more strength and passion--and desperation--in the way her lips moved across his. It left them breathless and just then it was no different; it was exactly what they needed.

It was exactly what they needed because as much as she loved him--and as much as she knew that no matter what she would never leave him--there was something so undeniably painful about the fact that their lives would be packed up and they'd be ready to leave, again. All before she could even finish her cupcake.

_finis_


End file.
